by Ann Charles
“None of your business, Garner. How’s your aunt? Still scraping the bottom of the barrel as always?”
Red-hot fury fired in Mac’s gut. He hid it behind a cool smile.
“Mr. Johnson will see you now, Mr. Rensberg.” Edith interrupted.
Rensberg stuffed the file folder back in his briefcase and stood. “Thank you, Edith.”
“Would you like your coffee sweetened, as usual?”
“Please.” He clutched the two map tubes to his chest. “Garner, tell your aunt our refinance rates are at a five-year low,” he said, his expression smug. “Just like her paltry savings account.”
Mac wanted to scrape the look off the banker’s face with his knuckles. “It’s always unpleasant to see you, Dick.”
Without wasting another breath on the son of a bitch, Mac pushed through the glass doors and stepped into the afternoon heat. Coming from the air-conditioned office, he felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.
He climbed into his pickup and fired it up. Next stop, the library. Time to dig through old claims and trace the lineage of the Lucky Monk mine.
Inhaling the hot air blasting from the vents, he wasn’t sure if he should be grinning wide or popping antacids. If the mining company wasn’t behind Leo Scott’s letter about the claim for the Lucky Monk, then who was? And how deep were their pockets?
* * *
Jess plopped down on the curb next to Kate. “Mom said she’ll be here as soon as she can find Claire and get her to watch the store.” The paper sack in Jess’s hands crackled as she pulled out a tube of tangerine lip gloss.
The teenager smacked her grape gum and popped another bubble—a smell and sound Kate would probably always associate with barreling into the broadside of a brand-stinking-new, red Chevy Silverado SS. The damned pickup still had the temporary plates stuck in the window for chrissake.
Every time Kate blinked, dollar signs floated behind her eyes.
She stared across the hardware store’s gravel parking lot at the blue-eyed cowboy she’d exchanged stares with outside the mini-mart yesterday, aka Butch the bartender. He stood next to his pickup, giving his play-by-play of the demolition derby to the sheriff. From the easy-going tilt of Butch’s white cowboy hat and the quick grins on the sheriff’s face, Kate guessed the two had a fishing rendezvous every Saturday morning.
Dragging her gaze away from Butch, she tried to block out the banjo chords from Deliverance that kept repeating in her head. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Even the whitish-pink flowers on the prickly poppies growing along the highway’s shoulder drooped in submission to the sun’s rays.
Lifting her hair from her neck, she fanned herself with the copy of the citation she hadn’t been able to wiggle out from under no matter how many times she’d batted her eyelashes. Today was one of the few times in her life that being blonde hadn’t earned her bonus points.
If word of this fiasco made it back to her insurance company, the scissor sharpening would commence. After her string of speeding tickets a couple of years back, they’d spare no time cutting her loose, and a year of using cruise control would be wasted all because Jess had run out of lip gloss.
Maybe Kate should just suck it up and pay out-of-pocket for this mess. It would drain a good chunk of her reserves, forcing her to job hunt sooner than she’d planned, but not being dropped by her insurance company might be worth it in the long run.
Batting at a pair of flies that buzzed around her head like it was a control tower, she looked over at Jess, who was busy painting her lips. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. My shoulder is a little sore from the seat belt, but that’s it. Those air bags were super coolio. It sounded like gunshots when they popped out.”
Her own ears still rang from it.
“I can’t believe what a rotten driver you are, though.” Jess kicked her coltish legs out in front of her. “Especially after all of the years of practice you’ve had.”
Kate shot the teenager a dirty look. Maybe Ruby should consider boarding school for the little shit.
“Claire is a way better driver than you, that’s for sure.”
Claire was better at most things than Kate, but she didn’t need this pissant reminding her of that fact right now. Kate opened her mouth to tell Jess to go sit somewhere else, preferably on something pointy, but held her tongue when she noticed Butch striding toward her.
Uh, oh.
The scowl was back on his rugged face, his blue eyes practically glowing red. The tendons in his neck strained against the neckline of his faded T-shirt.
Gulping, Kate stepped onto the curb for extra leverage. She brushed the stone crumbs from her linen shorts, straightened the hem of her white, silk tank top, and braced for the storm.
“What in the hell is wrong with you, woman?” Butch’s glare rivaled the sun.
Kate lifted her chin. “If you’re referring to the possible variance in our reports, I can assure you—”
“I’m referring to the load of shit you tried to slide under Grady’s nose.”
“Grady?”
“Sheriff Grady Harrison.”
Kate was surprised the sheriff’s name wasn’t Opie, Jeb, or Billy Bob. “Well, I was just relaying the facts as I saw them.”
“Really?” Butch’s eyes narrowed. He leaned closer, nearly nose-to-nose. “Explain to me how I was backing recklessly into oncoming traffic when I hadn’t even left the parking lot.”
Kate held her ground, unruffled by his proximity. She’d battled screaming, outraged parents enough times to know a level voice and polite smile were her best defenses. “You were backing up without checking to see if anyone was pulling into the lot.”
“And you were the ‘oncoming traffic’?”
“Exactly.” So she’d been reaching on that one, but it had a grain of sense to it. Unfortunately, the sheriff had only chuckled and kept writing, unlike Butch, whose fists were now clenched.
“And what about the ‘failure to use a signal’ part?”
That had taken some creativity, but Kate had been spinning the truth since potty training. “Had you used your turn signal, I might’ve been able to swerve to avoid your truck.”
“I was backing up.”
“All the more reason to use your signal to indicate the direction in which you were going to back.”
Butch opened his mouth, then glanced at Jess and snapped it shut. He shook his head. “Amazing. You crash into me and it’s my fault.”
Kate smiled politely.
“Woman, they should take your license, cut it into pieces, and spread it over the Sonoran Desert. It’s a good thing Grady could see through your bullshit. I’m just lucky you have insurance.”
“Umm, about that.” Kate almost swallowed her tongue at the death-threat look Butch nailed her with. She took a deep breath and continued. “I’d like to skip turning this into my insurance and just pay for it myself. You can choose which repair facility you’d like to use, so long as the prices are reasonable. I’m sure you ‘know a guy,’ being a bartender and all, but I’d prefer to stick with legitimate shops. A triple-A mechanic in Yuccaville should do just fine.”
Butch stared at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”
“Really, Mr. … ah, Butch.” She nudged her head toward Jess, who watched them with her mouth open wide. Kate could see the wad of purple gum on her tongue. “We have young ears listening.”
Butch’s chest rose and fell rapidly several times. “Listen, lady—”
“Excuse me, Ms. Morgan.” Sheriff Harrison approached them with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Yes, Sheriff?” Kate beamed at him, relieved to have a referee enter the ring and break up the fight. Maybe good ol’ Grady had changed his mind about the citation she still clutched in her sweaty palm.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m gonna have to take you in.”
Kate blinked. “Take me into where?”
“Th
e police station.”
The air suddenly seemed pizza oven hot. Kate’s smile faltered. “The police station?” She tittered, sounding like her mother after a martini and hating herself for it. “Is being a victim in an accident a crime in this state?”
“No. But driving a stolen vehicle is.”
* * *
Claire and Ruby sat on the General Store’s front porch and basked in the warm rays of the setting sun. The early evening storm rumbled its goodbyes as it traveled on to the next valley, a cool breeze its parting gift. The air, washed clean and sun dried, still smelled of wet greasewood and damp dirt.
“So, the sheriff detained Kate for six hours.” Claire said.
Sipping from her Corona, she savored the lemony bite on her tongue, and enjoyed a quiet lull before Gramps and Deborah arrived home with Kate and more thunderclouds in tow. The hankering for a cigarette lingered in the back of her mind.
“Six hours,” Ruby repeated, whistling.
Staring out over the driveway, Claire watched the sparkles of light reflecting off the quartz mixed with the gravel, looking like a sea of Tinkerbells.
“You think that’s normal or a little extra punishment for trying to lie her way out of that ticket?” Claire asked.
“Probably just normal.” Ruby’s soft, drawl sounded almost musical. “The law takes stolen vehicle reports very seriously ‘round these parts, with Mexico being so close and all. If I remember right, Joe mentioned something about the FBI bustin’ up a stolen car ring several years ago. He said the roots spread out quite a ways on both sides of the border.”
Ruby’s late husband’s past was more than checkered, it was gingham. Claire wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been the ring leader—the master of criminal ceremonies.
Since Ruby had brought up Joe, and Gramps was off collecting Kate, Claire decided to broach the subject she’d obsessed about all afternoon. “Back before Joe had his memory zapped by that big stroke, did he ever mention anything about a safe hidden somewhere in the house?”
Ruby remained quiet for several seconds. The breeze toyed with a red curl that had escaped from her ponytail, while the setting sun lit her freckled cheeks in a yellowish-orange glow.
“No. Never,” she answered. “And I was too caught up in runnin’ this place to ask.” With a sigh, Ruby turned to Claire. “When I think about Jess and me scraping by for the last year with the bank pounding on my door and fixin’ to take this place out from under me, I want to dig up Joe and let the coyotes chew on what’s left of him.”
Claire blinked, stunned at Ruby’s fierce tone.
“I used to think Joe was my Lancelot, ridin’ in on his white horse and whiskin’ Jess and me away from my job waiting tables in Oklahoma City. But when you found that money back in April, I realized what a selfish bastard I’d been married to for the last five years. The man refused to buy health insurance, let alone life insurance, but he had no problem stashin’ wads of cash in his office.”
Claire shook her head, still amazed the money had been right under Ruby’s nose all of that time.
“I was a fool to marry him, and an even bigger fool not to question how a travelin’ salesman could afford to buy such expensive toys and gadgets, not to mention the antiques.”
“Come on, Ruby, you’re being hard on yourself.” Claire patted Ruby on the knee. “You were blinded by love.” A perfect example of why Claire considered that heart-fluttering emotion another four-letter word.
“Love, ha!” Ruby snorted. “I thought I was in love. Turns out, I was just tired of serving burgers and fries for a livin’. I’ll tell you what, if Mac, Harley, and you hadn’t stepped forward to help me last spring, I’d be in Yuccaville right now at the welfare office.” She squeezed Claire’s hand. “Don’t think for one second I’ve forgotten all you and Mac did for me, including risking your lives.”
Claire squirmed in her chair, suffering from an attack of the “ah, shucks.”
When Ruby said that kind of stuff to her, Claire understood why Mac never hesitated to jump to his aunt’s aid. Ruby’s gratitude made Claire feel content in a way she hadn’t experienced since her grandmother had died.
She made a vow right then to figure out who had broken into Ruby’s house and why, come hell, high water, or her own mother’s scorn.
Wanting to help Ruby with something that might make life easier financially, Claire came clean. “I found a safe hidden behind the bookcase in your office. It may have more money stashed in it.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Sarcasm weighed heavy in Ruby’s drawl. She crossed her arms, scowling. “Joe probably hid gold bars from Fort Knox in there.”
“I need a code to open it. Any idea where Joe might’ve written down those numbers?”
“Not a single clue.”
“Do you mind if I dig around in the office some more?”
“Help yourself. You already found my dirty secret.”
Claire grimaced. “What’re you going to do about that letter?”
“I don’t know. Mac is looking into it for me.” She shook her head. “That boy just won’t take ‘No’ for an answer. Reminds me of his mother when he gets all stubborn like this.”
Claire smiled. Mac’s mother had been Ruby’s sister. She’d been killed in an accident almost twenty years ago. Shortly after her death, Mac’s father had remarried and moved to the Florida Keys, leaving Mac on his own to deal with his grief. Ruby had been the shoulder for him to lean on then. Now, he wanted to be there for her to lean back.
“Did Mac mention what his plans are?” Claire asked.
“No, but you can ask him in a minute. I see his pickup headed this way as we speak.”
The sight of Mac’s grin as he parked in front of the store and climbed out of his pickup spurred Claire’s heart into its usual grand jeté followed by a series of pirouettes that would make a ballerina green with envy.
“Good evening, ladies.” He looked finger-lickin’ good in his Levi’s as he climbed the porch steps.
Claire noticed that his eyes were slightly red when he dropped a kiss on her lips. “Where have you been?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“If you don’t tell, you won’t be kissing anymore.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Slugger.” He eyed Claire’s Corona. “Share your beer with me and I’ll spill the gory details.”
She handed him her drink, which he drained in seconds.
“Did you return Jess’s books to the library?” Ruby asked.
Mac nodded. The bottle clunked when he set it on the wood railing. “After I paid a visit to Chuck Johnson.”
Red patches appeared on Ruby’s cheeks. “Why’d you see him?”
“Just doing some fishing.”
That name was new to Claire. “Who’s Chuck Johnson?”
“The president of Copper Snake Mining Company,” Mac answered, leaning on the porch rail. He gave Ruby a cocky grin. “He sends his love.”
“He can kiss my ass.”
Claire chuckled. Ruby had plenty of reasons to want to hogtie and torture any of those scavengers from the mining company. When times had been tough, they’d lurked nearby while the bank circled overhead.
“I told Chuck you were considering selling Rattlesnake Ridge and Socrates Pit.”
Ruby did a double take. “I am?”
“As far as he’s concerned.”
“I hope I’m asking for a higher price this time?”
“We didn’t get that far.”
Claire sat forward. “Why’d you tell him that?”
“I needed a spur-of-the-moment appointment, and his receptionist was practicing her bouncer routine.”
“He’s still interested, I take it?” Ruby asked.
“Definitely. Rumor around town is that the copper in Roadrunner Mountain has petered out.”
“You mean Roadrunner pit,” Claire clarified. The mountain part of that name was forever gone.
“The ore in the pit contains less t
han a half percent of copper now, taking almost as much capital per ounce as it’s worth. But copper prices have been up lately, and your mines are ore-rich in comparison. They could keep the company in the black for another decade.”
Claire’s shoulders tightened. “But you aren’t really thinking Ruby should sell, are you?”
Mac and she had had this argument plenty of times last spring. She didn’t relish taking up her sword again.
“Hell, no.” He winked at Claire. “Don’t start rattling your tail again, Slugger. I haven’t healed from your previous bites.” He turned to Ruby. “I told him your lawyer would be in touch.”
“Who’s my lawyer?”
“Leo M. Scott, Attorney at Law.”
“The guy in the letter.” Claire smiled as she caught on to Mac’s game. “Oh, you naughty boy.” This new risky side of Mac made her want to ogle him in private, preferably sans clothing.
“Claire, quit looking at me like that in front of my aunt.”
She dragged her eyes away from his long legs and focused on her own dusty toes. “Did this Chuck guy react to Leo’s name?” she asked.
“Not even a little.”
“Does that let them off the hook?” Ruby asked.
Claire looked up to catch Mac staring at her tool belt draped over the arm of her chair.
“From the looks of it.” He answered Ruby, making eye contact with Claire. The hunger in his gaze made the back of her knees sweaty. They definitely needed some alone time.
“Then who’s behind it?” Claire asked.
“I’m still working on that. I hit the library next, intending to dig up details on the history of the claim, but left empty-handed.”
“I thought the Yuccaville Library led the state in mining resources,” Claire said. “Thanks to that huge grant from the Copper Snake.”
“It does. But every single piece of information about the claim has been stolen from the shelves according to the librarian.”
“Stolen?” Claire sat forward.
Mac nodded. “I figured you’d pounce on that.”
Thumbing her nose at Mac, Claire turned to Ruby. “I bet your burglar and the library thief are one and the same.”
“You think so, darlin’?”